


Call Me Home

by whenshewrites



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Not Known (Teen Wolf), BAMF Stiles, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everybody Lives, Full Shift Werewolves, Good Peter Hale, Humor, Jackson Whittemore is Part of the Pack, M/M, Nobody Dies, Oblivious Stiles Stilinski, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Peter Hale is a Little Shit, Protective Derek, Scott McCall is a puppy, Slow Build, The Alpha Pack, Wolf Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23585185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites
Summary: Stiles didn’t like change.Usually, he was pretty flexible. But there was a difference between switching out cereal brands and his dad telling him they were moving to an entirely new town after summer. Not to mention, he swears he hears wolves at night, the kids following him around school seem to be cult members, and there's a giant stray dog that won't leave him alone.Also? An Alpha pack.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes
Comments: 89
Kudos: 507





	1. Moving Sucks, Dude

Stiles didn’t like change.

Usually, he was pretty flexible. But there was a difference between switching out cereal brands and his dad telling him they were moving to an entirely new town after the summer. So yeah, Stiles had the right to freak out like he did. He also had the right to be a little moody as they drove cross-country, following a moving trucking full of all the things that  used  to have their proper place in Stiles’ childhood home.

He was a senior in high school, dammit. He was never going to make new friends before graduation. 

Stiles noticed the piteous glances his dad kept sending his way, but kept his gaze resolutely on the horizon. He didn’t want to be one of those cliche teens that angsted over the fact they had to move out of the blue, but he also hadn’t gotten over the fact that his summer had been spent packing boxes and being hit with the realization that he was  _ leaving _ . Leaving behind the memories of his mom in the kitchen, the bedroom he’d grown up in, and the tiny garden out back that once held all his mom’s favorite flowers.

Now, his home was some tiny town in the middle of nowhere, where Stiles’ dad had gotten a job offer as the new Sheriff. It was a solid offer, Stiles knew, but he was still peeved. Mostly at himself for treating this like some teen drama.

Moving sucked.

They arrived in record time, and the moving guys did their thing while Stiles checked out his new room. He tried not to notice how it was twice the size of his old one. He was supposed to hate this place, dammit, not revel in how big the kitchen was, or how there’d totally be room to set up his x-box  _ and  _ bookshelf on the same wall. He was supposed to hate anything and everything.

He didn’t. But Stiles tried his best. 

“I’ve got to go into work early tomorrow,” his dad said over dinner, poking at the broccoli Stiles had heaped on his plate. It was the best form of punishment he could come up with. “I’ll be gone by the time you wake up.”

“Okay,” Stiles said, staring at his own food. He had plans of his own; like wandering around town to see if it was anything more than quiet and boring. But he didn’t say that out loud.

“I’ll probably be home by dinner,” his dad tried again. “I could pick up pizza?”

“As if I’d let you break your diet because I’m being petty,” Stiles grumbled. “No, I’ll make something. I was thinking pasta, with those whole-wheat noodles you  _ love _ so much.”

“You’re punishing me, aren’t you?”

“The only way I know how, pops. Maybe I’ll throw in some vegetarian meatballs too.”

“I’m going to die without ever having known the pleasure of good food,” his dad said mournfully. Stiles just smirked.

“You’re not dying until you’re old and grey, if I have anything to say about it.”

His dad huffed at that.

Stiles had to admit he fell asleep easily in his new bedroom that night, though he could’ve sworn he heard a howl in the woods during the night. But he brushed that off as nerves the next morning. After all, there were no wolves in California.

His dad was gone the next morning, just like he said. Stiles unpacked a few more boxes before taking a break, having spotted a path into the woods behind his house yesterday. There had to be some hiking good trails around here, at the very least.

Stiles’d always liked the outdoors. It was his mom’s genes, his dad said. She’d always had spirit. 

The woods were peacefully quiet and the weather wasn’t bad either, for it being the end of summer. Stiles preferred his hoodies over short sleeves anyway, so he was totally wearing his red one to school tomorrow.

He stopped when he heard a sudden shout. It was followed by a series of yellings, then by a loud, cut off  _ thud  _ that sounded like a tree had literally fallen over. Stiles blinked, then started through the trees, coming out to an open clearing and what looked like two guys going at it in front of a large, mansion-like house.

Stiles stopped and stared.

The first guy, short and brown-haired, started toward the second, who was taller and curly-haired. Stiles didn’t know if he should interfere or stay back, frozen in spot as they leaped at each other. He spotted another figure sitting on the mansion steps, and it didn’t make a move toward them, so he didn’t either. Only stared as the short guy literally  _ growled,  _ before tackling the taller one to the ground. 

Stiles could’ve sworn he saw a flash of claws. But that’d be crazy, right?

He thought he saw a flash of glowing eyes too, shaking his head and retreating a step into the cover of the trees. But his back suddenly collided into a solidly built frame and he whirled around, yelping.

The most gorgeous guy Stiles had ever seen glowered down at him with what could only be described as  _ serial killer  _ eyebrows. Stiles pinwheeled back and ended up on the ground, scrambling back through the leaves as the guy stalked forward. His back rammed against a tree trunk and he whimpered, raising his hands in front of his face.

“Oh god, please don’t kill me. I’m too young to die.”

“What are you doing here?” the guy said, coming to a stop. His voice was a deadly growl. “Are you spying on us?”

“S-spying? No, definitely not, no spying here! I was just… walking, and I heard noises.”

“So you’re snooping,” the guy accused. Stiles flailed.

“Not snooping either! I’m just a naturally curious person, I swear. I’m not out here to steal your chickens or anything. I didn’t realize there was a literal  _ house  _ so far out here. What are you guys, lumberjacks?”

“You’re trespassing on private property.”

“Well, there wasn’t a sign,” Stiles said, lowering his hands and gazing up at the guy. Yep, he definitely had serial killer eyebrows. And unfairly gorgeous eyes. “I honestly thought someone was dying or something. Do you realize there are two dudes battling it out in your front yard?”

“That’s none of your buisness.”

“I was being a concerned citizen, dude. Usually, that's what people do when they hear the sounds of fighting.”

The guy’s face tightened, his expression darkening even more. Stiles carefully pushed himself up, keeping one eye on him as he brushed dirt off his jeans. His butt hurt. So did his back.

“Go back to where you came from,” the guy growled. Stiles frowned.

“Seriously?”

“I could call the cops.”

Stiles smothered a laugh at that, imagining his father’s face if he had to arrest his son on the first day. Raising his hands in surrender, Stiles took a step back. “Alright, fine, fine, I’m leaving. See? Leaving. So terribly sorry for interrupting your reenactment of last night’s ESPN boxing match.”

Stiles turned around and started through the trees, and when he looked back, the angry guy was gone. He huffed, wondering if the entire town was as crazy as him. Maybe he’d stumbled across was a cult of some kind. Or a fight club. Wouldn’t that be interesting?

Stiles backtracked the way he’d come, arriving at the house an hour before his dad got home. True to his word, he made whole wheat spaghetti, suffering the taste just to see his dad’s constipated face with each bite. It was well worth it.

The next morning, he had school. Stiles totally wasn’t ready.

It was bad enough he was the new kid. It was even worse being the new kid in his senior year. Everyone knew each other and he just stood out awkwardly, unsure where to even sit during his first class. 

Then he spotted one of the guys from the previous day. The short one with floppy hair, looking a little less threatening in the classroom. Crossing the room quickly, Stiles sprawled into the seat beside him. “Hey, dude!”

The guy gave him a confused look. He didn’t  _ look  _ like a cult member, with puppy-dog brown eyes and a curious expression. Stiles decided to take a chance, grinning brightly and offering a hand.

“I’m Stiles, the new kid in town. My dad just got a job as the Sheriff.”

“Your dad’s the Sheriff?”

“Heck yeah, but don’t worry, I’m not a snitch. Not that I think you’re doing anything illegal, or whatever. Cults are totally cool. As long as they’re not sacrificing virgins, you know?” 

“Uh, okay?” The guy looked even more confused. “I’m Scott.”

“Mr. McCall!” 

They both turned. The teacher, Mr. Harris, Stiles remembered, eyed them with a face of disinterest and slight distaste. “And Mr. Stilinski, is it? Do I need to move you two already?”

“No!” Stiles squeaked. He flushed red. “I mean, no. No. We’re fine, really.”

“Then keep your mouths shut,” Harris said. “Or I’ll have to start tacking on detention this early in the school year.”

Stiles looked at Scott in indignation, but the boy only shrugged, as if Harris was a common occurrence. Stiles scowled, sprawling back in his seat, and Harris continued to drone on. The first day of class and it seemed he’d already made an enemy.

The rest of the morning passed fairly slowly.

Stiles considered skipping lunch. Yeah, it was juvenile and he was hungry _ ,  _ but he didn’t want to be  _ that _ kid with nowhere to sit. So he was struck by surprise when Scott called him over from across the cafeteria.

“Stiles!”

Stiles blinked, then crossed the room, plopping down beside the boy and gazing around the rest of the table. He didn’t flinch when he saw the curly-haired guy from yesterday, which he felt was a win, but then he realized the stares he was earning from the others. No one else at the table seemed excited about his presence.

“I can just--” Stiles stood again. “Go somewhere else. I wanted to check out the library anyway and--”

“No way,” Scott said, tugging him back down by his sleeve. The guy was surprisingly strong. “You’re more than welcome to sit here.” He shot a challenging look around the table. “Right, guys?”

One guy, a dark-skinned dude, rolled his eyes. The blonde-haired girl beside him smirked.

“Right. Oh, _definitely,"_ she said, taking a savage bite out of her apple. “You’re  _ more  _ than welcome, Stiles.”

“What kind of name is Stiles?” Another guy asked, sitting at the end of the table with a douchey haircut like those you see in sports magazines. Stiles scowled at him.

“It’s a nickname, genius, since my actual name is unpronounceable to even my own father.”

“Seriously?”

Scott rolled his eyes and passed over his extra chocolate milk, which Stiles took it with a grateful smile. “Ignore Jackson,” he said. “The only things he likes in life is himself, Lydia, and lacrosse in that order exactly.”

“Lydia?”

“Hm?” 

Stiles jolted as a girl sat beside Jackson, his mouth dropping open slightly. She was downright gorgeous, and not just in a  _ hot dayum  _ kind of  way. In fact, everyone at the table seemed to have walked out of a magazine. It made him feel a little uncomfortable.

“This is Stiles,” Scott introduced him. “His dad’s the new Sheriff.”

“Your  _ dad’s  _ the new Sheriff?”

“Uh, yeah,” Stiles said. He blinked at her tone. “Why, is that a bad thing? Lately, everyone seems to act to that like that's a bad thing.”

“Well,” Jackson snorted. “After what happened to the previous Sheriff…”

Lydia punched his arm. Stiles leaned forward. “What happened to the previous Sheriff?”

Silence reigned over the table. Stiles turned to Scott, who looked anywhere but his eyes, and jabbed his elbow into the boy’s side. Scott yelped and rubbed at the impact.

“Come on, dude. What happened to the previous Sheriff?”

“He was killed,” the brown-haired girl beside Scott said. She offered a small smile, outstretching a hand. “Sorry. I’m Allison, by the way.”

Stiles stared at her hand until she lowered it, looking bashful. He didn’t even really notice the gesture, trying to wrap his head around the new information.  _ Killed?  _ His dad hadn’t mentioned how the position had opened because the previous Sheriff had been  _ killed.  _

“How?” he asked. “What killed him?”

Once more, they all avoided his gaze. Except the blonde-haired girl, who dropped the core of her apple onto her tray with a thunk and leaned forward. “Animal attack,” she said. Everyone shot her a dark expression and Scott hissed the name  _ “Erica”  _ to which she responded with an eye roll. “Ripped him apart limb from limb, the reports said.”

“What kind of animal was it?”

Erica smirked, and Scott intervened before she could say anything else. “Mountain lion,” he said. Stiles raised a brow, feeling sick.

“A mountain lion ripped the previous Sheriff apart limb from limb?”

“I mean…” Scott swallowed. “Not limb from limb, exactly. More like a slight mauling?”

Erica rolled her eyes again. The dark-skinned dude beside her muttered something quiet and she huffed, but Stiles wasn’t trying to listen in. His mind reeled as he remembered the howls he’d heard in the woods the previous night. 

“Are you sure it was a mountain lion?”

The entire table tensed. Scott chuckled half-heartedly and patted his arm. “Yeah, what else would it be?”

Stiles didn’t answer. He barely heard the overhead bell ring, everyone at the table standing up around him. Scott looked down.

“Stiles?”

“Shoot, sorry, man,” Stiles said, forcing himself to stand. “Just kinda surprise, you know? There were no mountain lion maulings where I came from.”

“Don’t worry,” Scott said, sounding completely serious. “There won’t be any more again.”

It didn’t seem like something he could control, but Stiles smiled anyway. He let Scott change the subject to chemistry as he led him to their next class, though Stiles was only half listening. His mind was still fixed on the mauling and the howls.

Was it a mountain lion? Could it be related to the howls he heard last night? But that wouldn’t make much sense; there were no wolves in California.

Unless there was more to Beacon than he’d originally assumed.


	2. Don't go Out in the Woods at Night

“Stay inside tonight,” Scott had said, pulling him aside after school. “It’s a full moon, you know.”

Stiles had shaken his words off earlier, but he looked out his window now, where the day had turned to dusk, and nightfall was coming. Scott was a weird dude, he’d decided. His entire friend group was. But they tolerated him, which was more than Stiles could’ve asked for on his first day, so he wasn’t going to judge them too hard yet.

But Scott's statement was bugging him now. He couldn’t explain why.

His dad had taken the night shift, so he wouldn’t be home until Stiles was leaving for school in the morning. Which was fine, except Stiles had planned on confronting him about how exactly he’d gotten his job. It was crazy, he told himself. The whole thing was. And that's totally why he cared so much.

Not because he’d been woken up by howling for the past two nights.

Stiles made himself a quick dinner and settled down to do homework, when he heard the familiar sound of howling in the distance. There was no way this town heard things like that and dismissed the idea that wolves could be wandering around the woods. Had the attack on the last Sheriff even been a mountain lion?

He opened his bedroom window and gazed out. The street beyond was dark and still, and the howls gradually faded to nothing. But Stiles knew what he'd heart. Throwing on a hoodie, he left his room and went out the back door, starting toward the dark woods beyond.

It probably wasn’t a good idea to go out this late, but Stiles was curious. The familiar path took him back toward the house he’d seen the other day, so he turned off at the last second, not inclined to run into creepy-brows and his ‘this is private property’ statements again. 

The second path took him deeper into the trees. Stiles hadn’t heard another howl since.

Then suddenly, there was a crack.

He swung around, peering into the darkness. If not for the full moon overhead, Stiles wouldn’t have been able to see anything other than he hands in front of his face. But then golden eyes peered out at him from the thicket, and Stiles flailed back so hard, he tripped over his own feet, going sprawling to the forest floor. Needles sunk into his hands and he scrambled backward, shoving himself up and taking off into the trees. Stiles heard loud growls now, and the cracking of branches as  _ whatever  _ that was gave chase. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, giving Stiles the energy to run faster.

Then suddenly, something connected with his back and he went flying forward. Pain exploded through his body as Stiles hit the ground hard, his vision blacking out for a second. He groaned and rolled onto his back, only to be pinned under clawed hands and glowing eyes. Stiles squeaked and tried to squirm away but the claws dug into his hoodie, tearing through the red material.

“Oh, god, don't eat me! Please don’t eat me!”

Stiles saw fangs,  _ fangs,  _ and then a loud howl pierced the air. As quickly as the weight had pinned him down, it was gone, and Stiles managed to scramble back. He watched the bushes part as whatever attacked him took off into the darkness, and whatever had saved him (saved him or claimed him as its own meal?) turned.

But it wasn’t another fanged creature. Stiles fished his phone out of his pocket and turned on the flashlight to see a black dog watching him from the nearby tree. It was big-- no, huge-- and covered in thick black fur. Stiles’ heart pounded against his chest and he shifted back another inch, freezing as the dog growled.

“Good doggie,” he said, flinching as the dog growled again. “Not good doggie? Okay, then please don’t eat me, I swear I don’t taste good. I mean, I’m not sure exactly how I taste, but I doubt it’s gourmet. There’s nothing but skin and bones beneath this hoodie, dude, and unless you want to be picking Stiles from your teeth for the next few days--”

Stiles broke off as the dog huffed. It had the strangest amber eyes that almost looked red in the right light, and it almost sounded like the dog was _laughing_ at him. Which was totally unfair.

“Okay, buddy, huff it right up, then. But I was nearly mauled by a who-knows-what, so forgive me for rambling a little. Plus, you’re not all cutesy snuffles and wagging tails, so I have the right to be nearly wetting myself.”

If the dog could roll its eyes, Stiles was pretty sure it would. Emboldened, he reached forward, only to freeze when the dog growled again. Scowling, Stiles drew his hand back.

“No petting? Fine, but that’s just rude. I happen to be very good at giving belly rubs, I used to dogsit my neighbor’s labs. And they absolutely  _ loved  _ me.”

The dog studied him for a long moment, then huffed again, turning away. Stiles watched as it disappeared into the brush, following the path that the other… thing had taken. Moments later, another howl struck the air.

So that’s what Stiles had been hearing.

He sat still for another long moment, then picked himself off the ground. His jeans were caked in mud and there was a thin cut across his hand and one on his neck, but other than that, he was relatively unharmed. Which might not have been the case if the dog had shown up thirty seconds later.

Stiles shuddered as he remembered the feeling of claws against his chest. He looked down to see his hoodie was shredded, but the claws hadn’t punctured skin. He traced his fingers over the gashes, mind spinning.

That hadn’t been a mountain lion. Stiles didn’t know  _ what  _ it had been, but it wasn’t a lion. Or a wolf, he didn’t think. It was something else.

Something deadlier.

Shaking those thoughts off, Stiles picked his way back through the forest. He used his phone as a flashlight, despite the dying battery. He was stupid for ever coming out here, he realized. What else had he expected to find? God, his dad would have killed him if he’d died. Which totally wasn't ironic.

The house was dark when he got back, and Stiles slipped in through the back door again. It was too quiet; uncomfortably so. He locked his bedroom door at his back and went over to his window to do the same. Stiles didn’t know if that’d even stop  _ whatever  _ he’d seen in the woods, but he felt safer doing so. His homework waited for him on his desk, but Stiles was too riled up to even considered attempting chemistry.

He ended up on the internet, searching for creatures like the thing he saw; fangs, claws, glowing eyes. Mostly, he just came across bad Supernatural fanfiction and crack websites, but one caught his attention, detailing all the things he’d seen. A humanoid creature with impossible strength, running the woods on the full moon.

Stiles could have laughed at what the website said it was. Because that was impossible; he was gullible, but not that gullible.

_ Werewolves. _

It has past midnight when Stiles checked the time, exhaustion starting to wash over him. Shaking his head, he stripped down to his boxers and decided to clean everything else up tomorrow. The events of the night hit him like a brick to the head and he couldn’t think clear enough to straighten things out.

Stiles started toward his bed, only to freeze. There was a black shape sitting on the lawn outside his window, amber eyes fixed on his window. Stiles stared in shock and the dog met his gaze, before standing and turning away, starting back into the shadows. It was a black silhouette that moved the night itself.

“Creeper dog,” Stiles muttered, shaking his head. He turned back to his bed, but not before tugging his curtains closed. He didn’t need to feel like he was being watched, new guard dog or not.

In the distance, he thought he heard another howl. It didn’t sound like his dog, this time.

Stiles fell asleep wondering there were more.

* * *

Stiles found himself cornered at his locker the next morning, before the first bell had even rung. 

He was surprised to see Scott and all of his little group, only missing Jackson and Lydia. He raised a brow and pulled his books into his chest as the others gave him accusing looks. Scott’s was somehow the worst of all.

“You told me you’d stay inside last night,” Scott said, sounding slightly hurt. “I told you to stay inside.”

“How do you now I didn’t?” Stiles blinked at the boy. He couldn’t help but notice how Erica studied the cut on his neck, onto to look quickly away when he caught her gaze. She almost looked guilty. “In fact, why would you even think I hadn't stayed inside? I could’ve been binge-watching Breaking Bad all night for all you know, or actually sitting down and doing my homework for once.”

“I just know,” Scott insisted. “And I told you it would be dangerous.”

“Actually, you told me it would be a full moon,” Stiles said. “And if I did go outside, I’d tell you that nothing--” A lie-- “even happened. I had a nice little walk around the woods, made a possible new friend, and then went home. No biggie.”

The curly-haired boy’s brows furrowed. “A new friend?”

_“Derek,”_ Erica hissed, as if she wasn’t standing close enough for Stiles to hear. The curly-haired kid’s eyebrows shot up and he stared at Stiles for a long moment, as if he was an alien from outer space.

“You met  _ Derek?” _

“Issac!” Erica elbowed his side. Issac let out an injured sound and shied away from her, moving so the dark-skinned kid was between them. Stiles blinked in confusion.

“Who’s Derek? No, I’m talking about some stray dog I came across. Did you guys know there’s a giant husky or something wandering around the woods? I’ve been hearing howls from my window since I moved here and I swear I thought it was wolves.”

“Wolves,” Scott laughed nervously. “Right.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes. Scott shuffled underneath the scrutiny and when Stiles took the time to study the others, they all avoided his eyes. Except the dark-skinned kid, that is. Refusing to be cowed, Stiles offered him a hand. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

“Boyd,” the guy said, ignoring his handshake. Stiles withdrew and rubbed the back of his neck self consciously, forcing a small chuckle.

“Charmed.”

The guy didn’t answer. But overhead, the bell rang and all of the group-- except Boyd-- looked relieved. Stiles didn’t know how he’d managed to attract such friends.

Scott tugged him to their next class and Stiles went without disagreeing, despite the fact he still had unanswered questions. The day passed fairly fast, despite all the looks he kept getting from Scott and the others, and Stiles found himself uncharacteristically quiet at lunch, rubbing self consciously at the cut on his neck every time one of them stared. He couldn’t get out of the school fast enough when the last bell rang.

But Scott still managed to catch him in the parking lot. Stiles had to resist groaning out loud, as the boy called his name, knowing Scott meant the best.

“Stiles! Hey, Stiles!”

He turned around with a smile, meeting the one Scott already wore. “Hey, buddy, what’s up?”

“I just wanted to say I’m glad you’re okay,” Scott actually sounded sincere and Stiles wondered once again what exactly he knew. His mind snapped back to the full moon, the creature in the woods, and  _ werewolves,  _ but he quickly shook that thought off. Scott was still talking, “And I was wondered if you’d like to come over Friday night. We all get together to watch movies and stuff… it’s a kind of a thing.”

“Oh,” Stiles gaped in surprise. He wasn’t convinced the others really liked him and wondered if this was a move Scott was making on blind loyalty. “Are you sure the rest of the group would be okay with that? Because I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“They’ll be fine,” Scott said fiercely. His eyes seemed to turn a shade brighter for a moment, before snapping back. Stiles resisted the urge to dive into his jeep. “They like you,” the boy continued. “They just take time to warm up to someone new.”

“Right,” Stiles continued to study his face. But Scott’s eyes stayed the same. “I mean, yeah, sure, I’m not doing anything else then. I’ll have to clear it with my dad first but I don’t see why not.”

“Great!” Scott’s beam stretched from ear-to-ear. “Let me put my number into you’re phone and I’ll message you the details tonight.”

Most the parking lot had emptied out by the time Scott finished, and Stiles tried not to pocket his phone too quickly. He was starting to think it might be a good idea to visit that webpage again. And maybe others containing information on the supposed existence of-- he felt silly thinking it--  _ werewolves. _

Scott waved as he started toward his motorcycle, and Stiles kept his grin plastered on. Only when the boy was out of sight, did he let it slip with a sigh, resting his forehead against the side of his jeep. Stiles hadn't gotten enough sleep for this.

His dad wasn’t home, but his shift ended in time for dinner, so Stiles settled down to finish his homework early. It didn’t help that Harris had tacked on an extra assignment for his essay yesterday apparently being too short, which made Stiles want to punch the man in the face. He didn’t know it was possible to hate someone so quickly and so much until now. He didn’t even know what he’d done wrong besides exist in Harris’s class.

Stiles was startled out of his thoughts by a bark from his backyard. Closing his book, he moved cautiously over to the backdoor and blinked in surprise when he saw the dog from yesterday. It sat on the edge of his law, amber eyes watching Stiles as he came into view.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Stiles asked, stepping out onto his back porch. The dog approached with careful footsteps, not close enough for Stiles to touch, but close enough for him to see just how gigantic the dog was. Stiles sank down onto the bottom step of the porch. “You must be half-wolf or something, aren’t you? It's illegal to own a half-wolf dog last time I check, which might be why you’re on your own. Is that right, boy? Did you use to have an owner? Or do you have one now?”

The dog regarded him, looking unimpressed. Stiles reached out, not touching him, but offering his hand, and he couldn’t hold back a grin as the dog nosed his fingers. 

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” Stiles said thoughtfully. The dog’s ears flattened and he barked a laugh. “Okay, not a good boy then. But you’re not bad or scary, despite the size and teeth. Do you have a name, huh? You look like a Fido. Or a Fluffy.”

The dog bared his teeth at the names and Stiles laughed again, itching to run his hands through the dog’s fur. He wondered if it was as soft as it looked.

“Oh, don’t give me that, Fluffy. I’ve seen your other side and I know you’re a big softie-- stop growling now-- you’re a big softie and we both know it. Growling won’t get you treats.”

Fluffy turned away at that, which had Stiles leaping to his feet, unwilling to lose his new friend already.

“Wait, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it, I swear!”

Fluffy stopped, but didn’t turn, and Stiles took a careful step forward, going still when the dog tensed. He didn’t know how Fluffy seemed to understand him, but it was like the dog did. He also could tell Fluffy wasn’t a fan of ‘good dog’ jokes.

“I think you’re kind of weird,” Stiles said, sinking down into the grass. “Not a bad weird, but not like the dogs you see at the pound or pet store. You’re smart, aren’t you? I thought I was smart too, and then I went out into the woods last night.”

Fluffy turned around, giving him a flat look. Stiles chuckled.

“Yeah, that wasn’t one of my best idea. A new friend of mine told me not to, I don’t know why, but he did. His name’s Scott and he’s kinda strange, although his entire group is. I don’t know if they like me or not… I mean, I think Scott does, but I'm pretty sure Erica wants to turn me into a human coat--”

Fluffy made a huffing noise at that. Stiles couldn’t withhold his own smile.

“She’s terrifying, you know. Not as terrifying at this dude I met in the woods the other day, though. That’s when I first saw Scott, you know. And then this Greek god-looking guy came out of nowhere, going all ‘this is private property’ and ‘do you want me to call the cops’ which would actually be super funny cause my dad’s the Sheriff. But I don’t think he’d see the humor in that.”

Fluffy had settled down into the grass and Stiles kept rambling, talking about his day and how he thought Jackson would be more tolerable at a boarding school in another country. He barely even knew Lydia, but he thought she deserved better, and he could also totally see the looks that Scott and Allison shared when they were around each other. 

“They’ve all got some kind of connection,” Stiles said, studying the pile of grass he’d made by tearing out tufts of lawn while talking. “Even if they’re not all best friends. It’s strange, but kind of heartwarming. I think they’re all a part of a cult run by that Greek god-guy of grouchy eyebrows, to be honest.”

Fluffy gave him an incredulous look. Stiles grinned at him, shrugging. 

“I dunno. This whole town is weird.”

Stiles remembered his plan to get in some non-schoolwork related research done before his dad got home, but a glance at his phone confirmed that was already too late. He grunted as he stood, looking down at Fluffy.

“I’ve got to make dinner for my dad, Fluff, and I don’t think he’d do well to see a half-wolf stray hanging around our lawn. You got a place to go?”

Fluffly rose with a huff, shaking himself off before giving Stiles a long look. There was something behind those amber eyes; Stiles felt like his ranting hadn’t gone unheard. Then the dog turned and vanished off into the woods, a silent as if he’d never been there in the first place.

Stiles shook his head before turning around too. Maybe he was going crazy, thinking about werewolves and talking to dogs. That could easily be it.

But for some reason, he didn’t think so.


	3. Bare Feet and Bad Touch

Stiles did the grocery shopping. He wasn’t a big fan of it and he’d just gotten out of school, but he knew if he let his dad take charge, the man would only buy junk food and red meat. So Stiles decided to take care of it by himself.

His cart was only half-full when he nearly ran over a woman coming around the corner. Stiles stumbled back, a dozen apologies on his tongue, but they all died in his throat when he got a full look at her. Or more importantly, her bare, clawed feet.

“Uh,” Stiles said, staring. She shifted and he snapped his gaze up, forcing a smile. “I’m so sorry, I totally didn’t see you there. I didn’t run over your, uh, feet, did I?”

The woman studied him like the last piece of meat on the shelf. Stiles licked his lips nervously and she smiled, revealing teeth that were sharp enough to be a dentist’s nightmare. “No,” she purred. “I’m fine.”

“O-okay,” Stiles said, starting to pull away. But she stepped sideways and cut him off, making his heart do a little leap. One hand reached out and traced along the back of his neck and Stiles flinched away, the reaction automatic.

“Woah, woman, bad touch! That’s seriously not cool!”

“My bad,” she said, stepping aside. Stiles tried to stop his thumping heart and he hurried by, feeling the ghost of her fingers along his neck again. “Goodbye, Stiles.”

He froze and swung back around. But just like that, the woman was gone.

Stiles shivered. He reached up and touched the place she had, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. It seemed every moment he spent longer in this town, things got weirder. Stiles was starting to grow tired of constantly feeling like he’d been dropped in the middle of a world he knew nothing about.

He rushed through the rest of his shopping, forgetting the milk. But by the time Stiles realized that, he didn’t like going back out.

It was Friday, so he was supposed to meet up with Scott and the others later. They’d acted about the same all week, though no one had protested when Scott announced he was coming to movie night, so Stiles figured that was a win. He was still nervous though, feeling like the new kid who was intruding on everything. The only one he’d actually started to tolerate along with Scott was Allison, who was nothing but friendly.

His dad was ecstatic that Stiles was making new friends. So he figured that was a win too.

Not to mention Fluffy hadn’t stopped his visits. The only night he hadn’t shown up was Wednesday, though Stiles’ father had come back early then, so he wasn’t too torn up about it. 

He never really had one set conversation with Fluffy, using the dog’s quiet presence to rant about whatever came to mind. Usually, it was school, though sometimes it was how strange he found the town, or the life he’d had before Beacon Hills. Last night he found himself talking about his mom, mentioning how much he missed her cooking and the smell of perfume she always wore. 

Stiles hoped Fluffy didn’t take it personally when he didn’t show up tonight. He’d mentioned Scott to the dog, but it wasn’t like he actually understood what Stiles was saying. 

His dad had another nightshift, so he’d waved Stiles goodbye and driven off in the cruiser, leaving Stiles with groceries and the weird chill of bare-footed woman’s fingers still ghosting over the back of his neck.

He didn’t know if he was supposed to bring anything to movie night. Stiles settled on grabbing a couple bags of chips, figuring he could just leave them in the backseat if things turned out differently. He really just wanted to make a good first impression.

The McCall’s house actually wasn’t far from his own. Stiles was greeted at the front door by a woman with curly hair who called herself Melissa (not Miss McCall, young man, Melissa) and apparently she worked at the hospital. She was terribly similar to his own mom and Stiles did best to maintain a smile, not get teary-eyed, when she pulled him into a hug at the sight of the snacks he’d brought.

The others were all gathered around the TV in the living room. Melissa had a work shift that night, so she laid the ground rules, made a couple threats, and then wished them all a good night.

She was a terrifyingly awesome woman.

The moment Stiles entered the room, Scott moved to hug him, hands reaching up to move over the back of his neck. It was something he’d started doing the last few days and while Stiles found it beyond weird, he’d ended up filing it as one of Scott’s quirks. 

Only, Scott froze an inch away this time. His nose wrinkled up and something in his eyes changed. 

“You smell wrong.”

“What?” Stiles knew he’d put on deodorant and his shirt was fairly clean. It’d been in the ‘can wear again’ pile anyway. “I showered this morning, I swear. And I didn’t try any new cologne. Is it deodorant? Because I recently opened a new thing of deodorant.”

“No,” Scott said, stepping back. He suddenly looked on his guard and a little angry. “You smell off _._ You smell _wrong.”_

Stiles gaped, taken aback by his new friend’s words. Had he already messed things up? One slightly dirty shirt and Stiles was back to being the hyperactive weird kid with no one to talk to at lunch.

He was surprised when Boyd came up to him and sniffed deep, his face a little too close to Stiles’ neck for his liking. The guy’s expression turned from curious to cold and he regarded Stiles like he was three week old take-out. “The Alphas.”

“The _what?”_

Lydia stood, her green eyes flicking between Stiles and Boyd, and Stiles knew if anyone could figure out what was going on, it’d be her. But she only played along. “Are you sure?”

“Erica and I were kept by them for three weeks,” Boyd said, his voice a low growl. “I’m sure.”

“Look,” Stiles said, retreating a step back. That earned him a series of snarls from around the room. He wondered if this had been some cult initiation and he’d accidentally done something to offend them. That’d be his luck. “I really don’t want any trouble. If the deodorant is a problem then I can go right home and wash it off. And then never come back again, probably. Is that fair? Cause it seems fair.”

“Call Derek,” Scott said, as Erica stepped in front of the door. Stiles froze, unsure of what was happening, but feeling like he didn’t want to find out. Of course, the only friends he managed to make turned out to be batshit crazy.

“Seriously,” he said, a small edge to his voice. “Just let me go and there won’t be a problem. I’ll never even look at you guys again.”

Jackson sneered at him, phone held to his ear. The moment someone answered, he turned away, muttering things Stiles couldn’t make out. His heartbeat rocketed to the ceiling.

“Please,” he said, desperation seeping into his words. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“He seems scared, Scott,” Allison said, her brown eyes sympathetic. “Can’t you just listen to his heartbeat to figure out what’s going on?”

“It’s all over the place,” Issac said from his place at Scott’s side. The boy narrowed his eyes distrustfully. “We wouldn’t know if he’s telling the truth or lying.”

Stiles had no idea what they were talking about. But he could feel his heart slamming against his chest, getting worse and worse with each passing second. He was nearing a panic attack, he realized, sinking onto the couch and burying his face in his hands. The voices of the room blurred out as his chest constricted.

He hadn’t had a panic attack in _years._

Suddenly, there were hands on his arms. Touching his shoulders and pulling him back and forth, like a Stiles tug of war. He couldn’t breathe right and his lungs burned, tears springing to his eyes. Stiles tried to pull away from them, but their grips only tightened. It made his heart pound harder. 

Then a roar filled the air and all the hands yanked away. Stiles’s eyes flew open as a man-- the same man who’d confronted him in the woods the first day-- stalked into the room, eyes colored a vibrant shade of red. Stiles scrambled backwards in panic, his lungs compressing even more. The guy’s eyes snapped back to their normal shade of grey-green and he sunk onto the sofa beside Stiles, one hand covering his knee comfortingly.

“Deep breaths, Stiles, take a deep breath. You need to count down from ten, okay? Count down from ten for me.”

It was so different from the guy Stiles had met in the woods, he found himself complying due to shock. The pressure eased from his chest and he could take deep breaths again, shying away from the man’s touch when he had all his functions back.

“Derek,” Scott said, stepping forward. The man rounded on him.

“What the hell were you thinking, Scott? I could hear his heartbeat from a mile away, it sounded like he was having a heart attack. And what does Jackson mean, the Alpha Pack has infiltrated our ranks?”

“Their scent is all over him, Derek,” Erica said. Stiles whimpered as Derek turned back toward him and hesitated for a moment, before leaning forward and taking a deep whiff. His eyes turned red again and he jerked back.

“I didn’t smell anything like that before.”

“Then maybe he’s good at keeping his scent hidden. Or maybe they didn’t feel the need to use him until now.”

Derek looked at Stiles like he’d taken a sledgehammer to his heart, eyes going from upset, to confused, to hard, and he stepped back. “Have you tried listening to his heart?”

“You said it yourself,” Jackson said, “it sounds like he’s having a heart attack.”

Derek eyed Stiles again, and Stiles pushed himself up, taking a stumbling step backward. Erica growled as he neared the door and he froze, looking at Derek again. “I know what you all are.”

The man stilled, one brow raising. Stiles looked around the entire room.

“You’re werewolves,” he said, voice cracking on the last word. He’d been denying it since the attack in the woods, but he had no doubts now. “All of you.”

“Not all of us,” Lydia said, crossing her arms. Jackson hissed her name and she rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying.”

“What do you know about the Alpha pack?” Derek said, stepping forward. Stiles tried to retreat back but with Erica at the door, there was nowhere to go. 

“I don’t even know what that is.”

“You smell like them,” Derek said. Stiles stared, then blinked, it all hitting him like a brick. Suddenly, Scott’s earlier touches made sense. So did the woman’s at the store.

“It was her.”

“Her?”

“This creepy chick at the grocery store,” Stile said, remembering her clawed feet. “No shoes, dark hair, seriously creepy smile. She touched my neck.” He shuddered at the memory. “And knew my name.”

Derek stilled, his eyes flashing again. Stiles did his best not to wince away from the reaction.

“Derek,” Boyd said, staring at Stiles. “He’s not lying, is he?”

“No,” Derek said. “He’s not.”

“Then what do they want with Stiles?”

“What do you mean, ‘want with me’?” The panic was back and Stiles stepped away again, running into Erica’s chest. She pushed him forward with a clawed hand and he narrowly avoided running into Derek, who caught him by the arms. Stiles jerked away. “What the hell would a bunch of werewolves want with me? I’m human, I’m nobody! Barefooted creepy werewolves should want nothing with me!”

“She’s not just a werewolf,” Scott said. “She’s an Alpha.”

“She still shouldn’t want anything with me!” Stiles failed. “Wait, is being an Alpha worse? For some reason, I feel like that’s worse.”

“It is,” Boyd said flatly. 

Stiles opened his mouth again, but he was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. His dad’s name flashed on the screen and Stiles ignored the werewolves' growls as he answered it quickly. “Dad?”

“Hey, son.”

“Is something wrong?” 

“No, nothing’s wrong, exactly. I know you’re at your friend’s house, but there’s two kids here asking about you. They say you’re close friends.”

Stiles blinked, gazing around the room. The only people he considered even ‘sorta friends’ were currently werewolves and threatening his life. “Uh, who now?”

“They say their names are Aiden and Ethan. I think they’re twins.”

Jackson growled lowly at that, and Stiles removed the phone from his ear, covering the speaker. Derek’s eyes were red once more. “Who are they?” Stiles asked. “What do they want?”

“They’re two of the Alphas,” Scott said. “They go to our school.”

“They’re with my _dad,”_ Stiles said, alarm starting to rise in his throat again. He heard his dad’s voice on the other side so he pressed the phone back to his ear, trying to smother the panic. “I don’t know them dad. Don’t tell them where I am.”

“Stiles? Is there something I should know?”

“No, nothing, everything’s fine,” Stiles said. “Just… don’t say anything to them, okay? And call me if anyone else shows up.”

He didn’t wait for his dad’s response, hanging up. His chest constricted with the signs of another panic attack, but Stiles managed to swallow it down. He looked at Derek. 

“Are they going to hurt my father?”

“I don’t think they’re after him,” Derek said, though he didn’t sound certain. Stiles licked his lips.

“Then what do they want with me?”

The other wolves all looked at each other. It was Scott who stepped forward, looking like the kid from school again. Gentle and hesitant. “Would your dad let you stay over?”

Stiles couldn’t believe this was how his night turned out.


	4. Sleepovers at the Cult House

Stiles’s dad gave him permission to stay at the McCall’s house. Then Scott told him they weren’t staying at his house after all.

Which was how Stiles found himself tailing Scott to Derek’s house _ ,  _ which turned out to be the one he’d stumbled across the first day. The cult house, he’d originally called it. It was pretty deep into the preserve and Stiles figured if he died there, nobody would ever find his body. 

Which wasn’t a very reassuring thought. 

He was sorely tempted to go home. But the last thing he wanted to do was endanger his dad’s life, and the idea that an Alpha pack of werewolves might want to rip him limb from limb was enough to make Stiles keep his hands steady on the steering wheel. Not to mention Erica, Boyd, and Issac had somehow ended up in his backseat, as no one had wanted to sit up front. Which was fine by Stiles. The fewer werewolves he had to sit next to the better.

Because that was a thing, apparently. Werewolves. Stiles didn’t know how this had become his life.

“You know,” he said when they arrived and everyone was filing out. “This isn't exactly how I saw my night going.”

“Trust me,” Jackson sneered. “You’re not our first choice either.”

“Shut up, Jackson,” Scott said, taking a protective stance at Stiles’s side. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Do you not smell the Alphas all over him?”

“I told you,” Stiles said, scowling. “I didn’t even know they existed until now.”

Jackson rolled his eyes and followed Lydia inside. Stiles watched him disappear from sight, clenching his jaw angrily. Scott seemed to notice his change of mood, because he clapped a firm hand on his shoulder. “Ignore Jackson, he’s an idiot.”

“Trust me, I’ve noticed.”

“And everyone else just needs time to adjust,” Scott said, leading Stiles forward. “This is the first time a human’s found out about our group. Other than my mom, of course.”

“Wait,” Stiles said, looking over. “Lydia and Allison aren’t human?”

“Well, Allison’s a hunter, so technically, yes. But Lydia’s a banshee. The rest are all werewolves, except for Jackson. I mean, he now, but he was a lizard first.”

“A  _ lizard?”  _

“It’s a long story,” Scott waved the question off. “And Derek’s the Alpha.”

“Hence the red eyes,” Stiles said, furrowing his brows. 

Something about them was startling familiar, though Stiles hadn’t had a chance to dwell on why. Inside, the others were already lounging around the living room. Except for Derek. He stood with his arms crossed in the corner, looking as serial-killery as ever.

“So what am I doing here?” Stiles asked, glancing around. Derek raised a single, silent brow, which seemed to be his form of conversation. Stiles rolled his eyes, turning to the others. “Anyone else?”

“Well, clearly,” Erica said from where she was splayed across Boyd’s legs. “The Alphas want something from you. And since they’ve been trying to kill all of us for nearly two months now, it’s probably kind of important that we figure out what.”

“They’ve been trying to kill you for three  _ months?” _

“They also captured me and Boyd for a while,” Erica said, her tone hardening. “Not fun.”

“But I’m human,” Stiles said. “I’m boring. I’m not worth their concern much less their time.”

“Clearly,” Jackson drawled. Scott shot him a dirty look.

“You’re the Alpha here,” Stiles said, turning on Derek. The man hadn’t said a word since they’d arrived. “What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to protect my dad? I’m the last thing he’s got, dammit, I’m not supposed to be worried about my life because of a bunch of  _ werewolves.” _

Derek didn’t look impressed. “We won't let them kill you.”

“Oh gee, thanks, I feel so much better now.”

“Deucalion always has an endgame,” Derek said, undeterred by Stiles’ tone. “If he wants something from you, it’s worked into his final plan. Most likely, his move earlier was to rile the pack up.”

“Only the pack?” Stiles asked. “You seemed pretty riled up too, big guy.”

Derek scowled at that. From across the room, Erica snorted, and Derek’s flashed his eyes red at her. She automatically went quiet.

“We could take shifts keeping an eye on Stiles,” Scott said helpfully. “At least one of us has a class with him at school and we could split into groups after then.”

“I’m not spending my days stalking Stilinski,” Jackson said. 

Stiles rolled his eyes, even though he kind of agreed with the lizard-wolf. He didn’t want to be followed around by a bunch of werewolves for the rest of his senior year. That was much less than satisfactory.

“Honestly, I really don’t want to be stalked,” Stiles said. “Can’t you just call up the Alphas, tell them I have nothing to do with this little feud, and we can all go on our merry ways?”

“Little feud?” Isaac asked, snarling. “Is that what you think this is?”

“Well, gee, I don’t know,” Stiles said. “I’m in town for less than a week and somehow get involved in all of this—” He waved his arms around. “Whatever the heck this is. So excuse me for not knowing what the hell is going on. What do the Alphas even want with you guys?”

“They don’t want us,” Erica said. 

“Uh, I’m sorry?”

“They want me,” Derek said lowly. He glared at the ground like it was the one offending him, and Stiles noticed all of his betas avoiding the Alphas’s gaze. He blinked in confusion. 

“Why exactly? Clearly, it’s not for your cheery personality.”

Derek glared at him. Stiles shrugged innocently.

“It’s because Derek’s the Alpha,” Scott said. “That’s who they target. And it’s because he’s a Hale, and he’s the only known werewolf that can full shift.”

“Full shift?” Stiles echoed. 

“Most werewolves can only half-shift,” Scott explained. “Derek can do more.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes curiously. In answer, Scott’s face was suddenly changing, and Stiles squawked as the boy grew claws and fangs. It was exactly like what he’d seen in the woods on his first day, with the glowing golden eyes and contorted features. Stiles pinwheeled back and nearly stumbled over his own feet, ignoring Jackson’s amused laughter.

“Are  _ you  _ the one who attacked me?”

Scott’s features turned back to normal and he looked confused. “Attacked you?”

“Oh,” Erica said. She smirked over at him and shrugged. “That was me. I’m still working on my control during a full moon.”

“Oh?  _ Oh?  _ Woman, you almost sliced me to ribbons!”

“But I didn’t,” Erica said, looking unconcerned as she nestled further into Boyd’s side. “Derek stopped me.”

“Derek?” Stiles said, blinking. “No, Fluffy stopped you.” 

Jackson barked a laugh. The rest of the pack avidly avoided Stiles’s eyes and he spun around toward Derek, mouth falling open. The Alpha’s ears turned bright red.

“Oh my god,” Stiles said. “You’re Fluffy?”

“Shut up,” Derek said darkly. Jackson howled with laughter and Derek shot him the red eyes, which immediately shut the beta up. Stiles continued to stare.

“Dude, I thought you were a dog! What the actual hell?”

“You came across the betas training last week,” Derek growled. “I had to make sure you didn’t see anything. Or if you did, you weren’t a threat.”

“On day one or day four?”

Derek clenched his jaw and didn’t answer. Stiles crossed his arms.

“You are so not a good dog.”

Scott choked. Derek shot Stiles a glare dark enough to kill, but Stiles didn’t care. At his old school, his worries had been schoolwork and making sure his dad ate healthy. But now, he’d made friends with a bunch of werewolves, was confiding with a not-so-stray-dog, and had attracted the attention of murderous Alphas.

“So what am I supposed to do?” Stiles asked. “I don’t even care about me, I care about my dad. How the hell am I supposed to protect him?”

Derek looked at him with an expression of quiet surprise in his eyes, the irritation melting from his eyes. Stiles crossed his arms and met his gaze fiercely back. 

“I heard the last Sheriff was killed,” Stiles said flatly. Derek flinched, looking away.

“That wasn’t the fault of my pack.”

“I don’t care about that,” Stiles said, suddenly feeling angry, frustrated, and downright done with everything . “I care about it happening again. My dad isn’t allowed to be in danger. I forbid it.”

Stiles didn’t care how that sounded; cold or demanding. His dad had come here to protect the town, but Stiles wasn’t letting him die for it. This wasn't his home; his home was hours away, where the house he’d grown up in was being overtaken by a new family. His home was a place where there were no werewolves, no creepy stalking Alphas, and no death threats. 

“Could he be killed because of this?” Stiles asked. “My dad?”

Derek clenched his jaw and didn’t answer. But the lack of response itself was an answer. Stiles looked away in both anger and terror, and debated tracking down the claw-footed Alpha just to punch her in the face. Maybe there was a way he could convince his dad to move towns again. They could go somewhere far away; somewhere with an extreme lack of supernatural creatures. 

“We won’t let anything happen to him,” Scott said, when it was obvious Derek wasn’t going to do anything helpful. Stiles wanted to glare at the boy, but he couldn’t be angry at that puppish expression. He looked at him pleadingly instead.

“Can you really promise that?”

“We can try,” Lydia said. 

“Then what can I do?” Stiles asked. “What can I do to help?”

“Nothing,” Derek said suddenly. “This isn’t your problem and you’re not getting involved.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Clearly, I already am.”

“No you’re not,” Jackson said, sneering. “You’ve been in town a week and you’ve known about werewolves for less than a day. You’re not involved, Stilinski, you’re in the way.”

“So I’m supposed to just go home and hope the Alphas don’t want anything else, then? Despite the fact that one of them  _ tracked me to the store?  _ Or did you forget about that? That and the fact that the twins went to my dad’s  _ work? _ ”

Jackson gazed at him and shrugged.

“No freaking way!” Stiles shouted. “Trust me, asshole, the last thing I wanted to do was get caught in the middle of a werewolf feud, but I’m not going to sit on the sidelines with my hands behind my back and watch! Not while there’s a chance my dad is in danger.”

“For all we know, the Alphas don’t even care about you,” Erica said, looking unconcerned at Stiles’s outburst. “Today could’ve been a threat to us, not you.”

“The statement ‘could have’ isn’t very comforting.”

“The statement ‘could have’ is the best you’re going to get,” Derek said. Stiles glared at him.

“No, it’s not. Tell me what I can do.”

“Go home.”

“Goddammit, you asshole! You’re the one who brought me here in the first place!”

“And I’m severely regretting that,’ Derek snarled, his eyes turning red. The rest of the room flashed their necks, all of the werewolves whimpering, but Stiles held his ground, glaring right back. So far, he’d seen this so-called Alpha as a creepy cult leader, grumpy property owner, and stray dog. The red eyes were the least of his concerns right now. 

“What happened to the last Sheriff?” Stiles asked. “What tore him apart?”

Derek didn’t answer. No one would meet his eyes.

“Dammit, Derek!” Stiles shouted. “What happened?”

“An omega werewolf attacked him,” Derek said flatly. “We weren’t able to get there fast enough.”

“An omega?”

“A werewolf without a pack,” Derek said. “And there’s a reason for that. Sometimes, they’ve been cast out of their own pack. Sometimes they’re in danger. But other times, it’s because they don’t want to belong to an Alpha and that can mess with their heads. Make them go feral.”

“So the omega was feral?” Stiles asked. Derek clenched his jaw and nodded.

“He was killing people all across town. The Sheriff was leading the investigation and was killed tracking him through the woods.”

“Did he know about werewolves? The last Sheriff?”

“Of course not,” Jackson said, snorting from across the room. “We don’t go around broadcasting what we are, Stilinksi.”

“It wasn’t that hard to figure out,” Stiles muttered. Derek raised a brow and he rolled his eyes. “I might have looked a few things up before tonight. You know, what someone usually does when they’re attacked by a creature with claws and glowing eyes in the middle of the night.”

“I told you to stay inside,” Scott said, sounding hurt. Stiles gave him a small look.

“I know, Scotty, and I appreciate you trying. But seriously, dude? Telling someone to stay inside because it’s a full moon? That’s enough to make even an idiot question things.”

Derek gave Scott a dark glare. Scott deflated. “I was trying to help.”

“We just need to work on your subtlety,” Allison said, patting Scott’s knee gently. “Or avoid saying anything all together next time.”

“There won’t be a next time,” Derek growled. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Do you growl at everyone that irritates you?”

Derek looked like he was going to growl at him again. The man settled for flashing his eyes instead, but Stiles was starting to realize the Alpha was all bark and no bite. Between his bunny teeth, lack of proper punctuation, and serial killer expression, Derek’s eyebrows might be the scariest thing about him. And that was only because they didn’t seem natural.

“I’ll tell you what,” Stiles said. “I’ll keep my mouth shut about all this if you keep me updated about the Alphas. I want to know everything about them. I want to know the second they make a move. And I want to help get them out of Beacon Hills.”

Derek looked murderous. “Are you threatening my pack?”

“Consider it bargaining, big guy.”

The other werewolves were all starting at him. Even Lydia looked surprised, if not a little amused. Stiles flashed her a grin and then crossed his arms, fixing Derek with a pointed look. 

“But don’t get me wrong, Growly-brows, the second this is over and my dad is safe, I’m done. I don’t want anything else to do with werewolves, banshee, or any other supernatural crap you’ve got going on, and I don’t want my dad to be bothered with it either. But only after the Alphas have been taken care of. Capiche?”

“Or,” Derek said, glaring at him. “I could rip your throat out. I’m sure that’d show the Alphas how little we care about you.”

“Dude, that’s just rude. Don’t make false threats like that.”

Derek’s face shifted slightly, showing fangs and a contorted forehead. Stiles’s heart stuttered a little and he nearly stumbled back, but he forced himself to hold his ground. Derek smirked. “False? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, Sourwolf. Now, do we have a deal or not? Because I’ve already been dragged into this and I’d hate to drag anyone else along for the ride.”

Some of the other werewolves snarled at that; mostly Jackson and Isaac. Derek looked like he just might rip Stiles’s throat out, but then his face shifted back to normal. Stiles smiled in triumph as the man glared. “Fine. But if you die, it’s not going to be on my conscience.”

“The plan here is to avoid death, dude. For me and my dad.”

Derek growled lowly, turning away and stalking out of the room. Stiles watched him go, then sighed, looking at the rest of the werewolves. He offered a small shrug.

“So am I done here now?”


	5. Fluffy the Alpha

Stiles was picking at his dinner the next night. His dad noticed.

“So,” his dad said conversationally, but Stiles knew exactly where this was going. “Is everything at school going okay? How was your night at Scott’s?”

“Fine,” Stiles said. “We played video games.”

“And?”

Stiles froze, fork half-dug into his dinner. For a moment, his mind went blank. His dad couldn’t possibly know anything else, could he? Stiles had done his best to stay discrete. He’d been careful. Even after leaving the pack yesterday and coming home jumpy and strung-up. “And what?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” his dad said. “Care to explain the visit paid to my station yesterday by your buddies, and the call you so expertly dodged?”

“Oh,” Stiles said, deflating a little. After his dad had told him the twins had left without any trouble, Stiles had hoped that would be the last he heard of things. Until the Alphas were taken care of at least. “Yeah, they were just a bunch of idiots from my school. No biggie.”

“No biggie.”

“Nope, none at all,” Stiles said, avoiding his dad’s gaze. “Hey, are you going to eat your veggies? Because you’re not leaving this table until you’ve eaten your veggies.”

His dad gave him a flat look as if he knew exactly what Stiles was trying to do, but Stiles only shrugged and put on his best grin. Rolling his eyes, his dad stabbed at the green beans Stiles had piled onto his plate with a distasteful expression. 

Stiles swallowed hard and returned to his own meal.

He was pretty sure he’d made things tense yesterday; threatening a literal werewolf pack. But sitting across from his dad, Stiles knew it was worth it. He’d do anything to keep his dad safe. And he’d never asked to be thrown in the middle of all this.

Stiles had comforted himself with assurances that he just had to get through the school year. He was a high school senior after all. Once this was all over, he could go to college somewhere far away from Beacon Hills and its supernatural craziness.

Only, that would leave his dad here alone. With Beacon Hills and its supernatural craziness.

Stiles jabbed particularly hard at the veggies on his plate. His dad shot him another raised eyebrow but Stiles pretended he didn’t see it, pushing himself up and carrying his food into the kitchen. He scraped the leftovers into the trash, grimacing. He hadn’t had an appetite since he’d left the Hale house and he didn’t think he would for awhile.

Though the window beyond the sink, Stiles caught the sudden flicker of shadowy movement. He narrowed his eyes against the darkness and then glanced back at his dad, who was still glaring at the veggies on his plate.

Quietly, Stiles moved toward the back door and slipped outside. He moved to the front step and peered out. For a moment, everything was still.

Then a pair of amber eyes cut through the darkness and Stiles’s breaths lodged in his throat. Only for a moment, though, before Derek was loping across the yard toward the back porch and Stiles set his jaw, frowning.

“Dude, what the hell are you doing here?”

Silent glowing eyes blinked at him. Stiles sighed and dropped down onto the step, staring at the Alpha werewolf. 

“I’m not going to say anything to him, if that’s what you’re worried about. You can stop stalking me.”

Derek stopped a few feet away and just stood there, holding his gaze. Stiles rested his chin on his palms and after a moment, wolf-Derek turned to search the trees. Stiles straightened, then, as it sunk in. A small smirk played along the edges of his lips.

“Wait a second, are you playing guard dog?”

Derek turned back toward him with a low growl. But Stiles couldn’t help grinning, a chuckle escaping his lips as he shook his head.

“Oh my god, you totally are,” Stiles said. “ You’re like my own little guard dog. Wait, guard werewolf? Guard Alpha? Whatever, Sourwolf, the point is, you’re a total fluffball. And you’re keeping an eye on me, aren't you?”

Derek gave him a flat look before turning around and starting back toward the woods. Stiles jumped up and started forward, raising a hand.

“Wait, dude, I didn’t mean it! I was just going hard on you.”

Derek paused. Amber eyes blinked back at him.

“I kinda appreciate it, actually,” Stiles said, sinking into a crouch. He offered out a hand and Derek turned around slowly, moving forward. Stiles felt a little strange, knowing there was an angry-browed scary looking man that existed underneath the wolf’s fur. But at the same time, he didn’t mind, as Derek’s nose touched his hand. “You know, knowing I’m not alone here to keep an eye on my dad. It's kinda nice.

Derek moved to Stiles’s side and plopped down. Stiles sat down too, pulling his knees into his chest.

“I thought you were pretty pissed at me after yesterday.”

Derek huffed. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, well, I was pretty pissed at you too. I still am. I mean, seriously, dude? Werewolves? I still can’t believe that’s actually what this town is made of.”

Amber eyes turned to regard him quietly. Stiles sighed and rested his chin on his knees. He gazed outward at the silent forest beyond. Somewhere out there, there was a pack of Alphas. A pack of red-eyed, bloodthirsty Alphas. 

“Why me,” Stiles said softly. “Why do they care about me?”

He knew he wasn’t going to get an answer. But that didn’t stop Stiles from wishing desperately that he would. It seemed like he was clearing one question up only to be thrust with another. Thoughtfully, Stiles rubbed at the back of his neck.  The same place Kali’s fingers had touched two days ago.

“Do I still smell like them?”

He held still as Derek pushed himself up and moved a little closer, nose brushing along the back of his neck. Stiles shivered a little but didn’t pull away until the wolf had first. He could’ve sworn Derek looked pleased when amber eyes blinked at him again. Stiles huffed.

“Thanks, Sourwolf. I’m still not happy about being dragged into this, though. A couple months ago, I wasn’t being sniffed by werewolves and trust me, my life was perfectly fine.”

Derek’s gaze dropped.

Suddenly, the back door was sliding open and white light flooded across the back lawn. Stiles startled and leaped to his feet, spinning around right as his dad stepped outside. The man’s brows were furrowed and he tilted his head, looking at Stiles with a strange expression on his face.

“Stiles? Is everything alright?”

“Uh,” Stiles glanced over his shoulder but Derek was gone. It was like he’d never been there. Chuckling nervously, Stiles faced back forward. “Yeah, everything’s great.”

“Whatcha doing out here?”

“Just… sitting?”

“Just sitting.”

“Yeah, just chilling,” Stiles said, brushing off his pants. His dad nodded before gesturing back inside.

“I’m gonna turn on the game, if you want to come chill inside.”

Stiles snorted and started forward, trying to brush off the strange look his dad gave him as he passed. The Sheriff waited a moment longer and scanned the backyard again, but it was as empty as it was dark. Stiles was on the couch when his dad gave up the search.

Stiles was pretty sure Derek was still out there, though. Well, he didn’t know-know, but he had a feeling. And he felt a little better because of it.

A little. Enough. For now, at least.

* * *

The pack was waiting for him at his locker the next day.

Stiles slowed down as he approached, hefting the backpack slung across his shoulder. He raised an eyebrow and glanced over them all before glancing around the hallway and then back. Despite himself, he sighed.

“So, is this gonna be a regular thing now?”

Scott beamed. The others though, in exception to maybe Allison, looked put-off and bored. “We’re making sure nothing happens to you,” Scott said, grin stretching from ear to ear. Stiles nodded slowly.

“Right. Did Derek scary-brows put you up to this?”

The boy actually looked confused. “Why would Derek put us up to this?”

“No reason... I guess.”

Erica narrowed her eyes at him but Stiles pretended like he didn’t see it. There were whispers going around the hallway and he could feel people staring as they passed by. Stiles shifted uncomfortably, unable to help himself.

“You realize this is weird, right? It looks like I’ve just been inducted into a cult or a gang or something.”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Trust me, we’re not happy about it either, Stilinski.”

“Oh, go buzz off, lizard face.”

The boy’s eyes flashed blue and Lydia elbowed him in the stomach, then flashed the people around them a cheery, but sharp smile. Automatically, no one was looking anymore. The red-head fixed Stiles with a smug look. “There. Happy?”

“No. I’m not a part of this cult.”

“It’s not a cult,” Scott said, looking offended. “It’s a pack.”

“Gee, McCall,” Erica said, rolling her eyes. “Why don’t you say it a little louder? I don’t think the entire school heard you.”

Scott gave her a flat look. The blonde-haired beta only grinned. 

But, seeing his escape out, Stiles quickly grabbed the books he needed and then slammed his locker shut, turning away from the ‘cult’ that had decided to start stalking him. How did he get pulled into this again? Oh yeah, he made the decision to talk to Scott puppy-eyes on his first day even after seeing him fighting Isaac in the middle of the woods.

Stiles’s self-preservation skills sucked.

He heard Scott’s indignant call as the boy gave chase and, looking over his shoulder, Stiless saw the others were reluctantly following. He sighed and hunched deeper into his hoodie, cursing his past self.

Maybe if he’d minded his own buisness from day one, he wouldn’t have been a target of the Alphas in the first place. Next time he saw what appeared to be a cult fighting out in the middle of the woods, Stiles was going to turn right back around and go home.

He paused in the doorway of his first class, though, blinking. The teacher was new. And in his seat from the last week was a sharp-jawed grinning boy.  Sitting right next to him was a kid who looked exactly the same. Stiles’s blood turned cold and he clenched his hands into fists. 

_ The twins. _

The one in his seat grinned. Internally, Stiles reminded himself murder was illegal. He forced himself into the classroom and chose the very last seat in the back. The entire pack followed, surrounding him on all sides. But that only made both twins grin wider.

Stiles tried to focus on the new teacher; a young woman with dark-brown curly hair. Jennifer Blake. A teacher fully against everything that involved phones, apparently.

The twins watched him throughout the entire class period.

Stiles was so done with werewolves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, it's been a LONG hot second since I've been here. But finally, here's another chapter, and I promise to work on staying consistent with updates for this fic! I might've forgotten about it a little. I've started too many wips, guys, it's an addiction.
> 
> Come hang with me on Tumblr!
> 
> [the dumpster](https://when-she-writes-stuff.tumblr.com/)


	6. The Threats of a Blind Man

Stiles went back to the Hale house after school. That was the last place he’d planned on being but then Isaac, Erica, and Boyd had climbed into his car after school and given him mildly threatening looks, and Stiles hadn’t dared argue.

Because apparently this was his life now. He wasn’t sure if he’d accidentally adopted werewolves or if they’d adopted him, but Stiles just wanted to back up twenty or so steps. He didn’t like this. He didn’t consent.

Derek came out onto the porch when Stiles arrived. The man stuffed his hands into his pockets and glared, so apparently last night had never happened. Because the moment Stiles stumbled out of his jeep, Derek glared harder.

“What are you doing here?”

Stiles blinked at him. Then rolled his eyes. “Your puppies abducted me.”

“They’re not puppies.”

“You’re right,” Stiles said, shouldering past and stalking into the Hale house. “Their freaking werewolves. Now do you have any food? I’m starving.”

Erica snorted a laugh and Derek followed after him, continuing with the murder brows as Stiles dug around through his fridge. Surprisingly, there was some good food, and he grabbed a few ingredients, some bread, and went on to make a sandwich.

If Stiles was getting dragged into this, he was making the best out of it.

By the time he was done, wandering back out onto the front porch, more than half of the werewolves were shirtless and milling around the yard. Stiles leaned against the porch post, raising an eyebrow.

“So this is what you all do in your free time?”

Derek gave him a flat look, arms crossed, and didn’t say anything.

“What’s it supposed to accomplish?”

“It’s training.”

“Yeah, but how the hell is scuffling around the yard going to do anything about the Alpha Pack?”

“It teaches them control,” Derek said. “Would you like to come across a werewolf during a full moon without control?”

“Technically,” Stiles said. “I already have. Remember that time Erica nearly ate me?”

“That was your own fault,” Derek said, flat out ignoring Stiles’s sound of protest. “You were in our territory during a full moon.”

“Oh, right, because I should have known better.”

“You should have.”

“Werewolves, asshole! Who the hell thinks about werewolves before going for a walk?”

“Who goes for a walk in the forest at night?”

Stiles glared at him and then turned back toward the werewolves. He’d never admit that Derek was a little right. Or that, as he watched the others, he was a little impressed as the werewolves shifted and paired off, circling around each other. He watched until it felt like hours had stretched on and then turned back around, moving into the house again.

Only to come to a sudden stop.

There was an unfamiliar man lounging on the couch. One Stiles had most definitely never seen before and he glanced up with a small smirk as Stiles stared. For a moment, Stiles could've sworn there was a hint of blue in his eyes. Slowly, he backed a step away.

But then he was colliding into a firm chest. Stiles bit back a yelp and whirled around to see Derek standing behind him, a dark look on his face as he regarded the other man.

“Good afternoon, nephew,” the man said, pushing himself up and moving closer. Stiles resisted the urge to shrink away. “Brought in another stray?”

“He’s human, Peter.”

“Oh, I can tell,” Peter said, leaning forward and inhaling deep. His eyes flashed bright blue and his grin was nothing but sharp. “Human with a side of something else, am I right?”

Derek’s frown deepened. Stiles shot him a confused look, but the Alpha didn’t say a thing. Peter chuckled.

“Okay, nephew, keep your secrets. I trust you’ve caught the other Alpha scents on him too?”

“Go back to your room, Peter.”

Peter huffed. He looked from Derek to Stiles and then turned around, leaving the room. Stiles shivered despite himself, before shooting Derek a dark glare.

“What the hell was that about?”

“That’s my uncle.”

“No, what the hell did he mean? What is something else?”

“Peter used to be insane,” Derek said shortly. “We tend not to listen to him.”

“Well, I want to listen to him!”

“Then go seek him out,” Derek said shortly, turning back around. “But don’t come crying to me when he says things that don’t make sense or you don’t want to hear. He gets underneath people’s skin. That’s all he does.”

Stiles stared after the man, mouth agape. Derek went back onto the front porch and Stiles blinked for another moment, before turning around and eyeing the door where Peter had vanished. But… werewolves. And that one gave him the creeps. Stiles wasn't turning to werewolves for answers.

He’d already come to terms with the fact that they were not very good at giving them.

Groaning, he stalked back out of the house and off of the porch. The other betas stopped training as Stiles walked past and he thought Scott called his name, but Stiles ignored him. Climbing into his jeep, he slammed the door shut, shoved the keys in the ignition, and backed away.

He thought he met Derek’s red eyes for a moment. Right before he was turning the car around and pulling away.

Werewolves.

Stiles kind of hated them.

-

His dad was still on a shift when he got home. Stiles sighed, shoving the front door open and dropping his bag onto the floor, before wandering into the kitchen to start dinner.

Only to freeze.

There was a man sitting at the table. One with dark sunglasses and a cane leaned up against his chair. Stiles went stock-still as the man slowly turned his chin upward, and then swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry, sir. Are you… lost? How the hell did you even get in here?”

“You’re right, Kali,” the man said, tilting his head. “He is polite.” 

Stiles’s heart stopped. He spun around, ready to run, but then there was a woman stepping in front of the doorway. The very same one from the grocery store, a smirk curling along the edges of her lips. Her eyes sparked red and Stiles’s heart lodged in his throat as he turned around again, making for the back door.

But a thickly-built bald headed man was already there. Stiles was very effectively caged in, he realized, and his heart hammered against his chest as he realized this was how he was going to die. This was it for him. His dad was going to find his body and— and— 

Freaking  _ werewolves. _

“Come sit, Stiles,” the blind man said. “Don’t make my colleagues force you.”

The bald man bared his teeth threateningly. Stumbling back, Stiles moved toward the other side of the table and slowly sank into a chair. He regarded the blind man silently, terrified to even speak a word.

“My name is Deucalion,” the man said. “Though I expect you already know that.”

“Should I?”

“You have been spending time with the Hale pack, have you not?”

Stiles swallowed hard. He was half-tempted to lie but instead, he just stayed silent. Deucalion chuckled.

“Don’t worry, Stiles, I didn’t come here with plans to hurt you.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I want Derek,” Deucalion said. “I want Derek’s pack. This is a conflict between us, not you. There is no place in this for a little human.”

Stiles clenched his jaw hard. As if sensing his sudden anger, Deucalion sighed.

“You want to keep your father safe, don’t you?”

Stiles’s blood went cold.

“Because I can promise his safety,” Deucalion said. “I can promise his safety and I can promise yours. The Hale pack is not your concern. None of this is. Or at least, it wasn’t.”

“But it is now?”

“Once I get what I want, my pack and I will leave this town,” Deucalion said. “And by leaving this town, you and your father will be safe.”

“So why are you here then?”

“Because right now, you’re going to help me get what I want.”

Stiles tensed. He glanced back over his shoulder but the exits were still blocked. Kali smiled at him; a sharp, unfriendly, look that curled over her lips. Stiles didn’t even give the bald man a second look, slowly turning back to Deucalion.

“You said so yourself,” he said quietly. “I’m just human. I can’t do anything.”

“I know, Stiles,” Deucalion said, and he actually sounded sympathetic. “But you’ve gotten yourself mixed up in the middle of this. And for some reason, the Hale pack trusts you. Even better than that, Alpha Derek Hale trusts you.”

“Derek hates me.”

“Now, we both know that’s not true.”

“Have you seen the way he looks at me?” Stiles said, the harshness back to his voice. “Just because he gets a little apologetic and furry sometimes doesn’t mean he wouldn’t rip my throat out if he thought I was working against him. He’s already threatened it once. He’d kill me and my father.”

“Derek Hale is not a killer, Stiles,” Deucalion said. He thought for a moment and then smiled. “Not yet.”

Stiles didn’t know what the hell that meant, but it didn’t sound good. He swallowed hard and his eyes fluttered around the room one more time. “What do you want from me then?”

“You’ve made friends with the Hale pack,” Deucalion said. “I want you to keep us updated on them.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Stiles,” Deucalion said. “Really, I don’t.”

Stiles clenched his jaw. He was terrified, yes, but not of getting hurt himself. Deucalion tilted his head as if he was listening to something and then he smiled.

“But you’re not scared of that, are you?”

“Fuck off.”

“I offered your father’s safety,” Deucatlion said. “Help me and I will make it a promise.”

“You’re threatening my dad now?”

“I don’t make idle threats, Stiles. Consider it bargaining for his life.”

That was even worse. Panic rose in Stiles’s throat and he blinked hard. Looking at Deucalion for a long moment, he finally took a trembling breath and nodded. Then he remembered the man couldn’t see him. “Okay. Fine.” 

“Good boy.”

“But you protect my dad no matter what. Even if Derek finds out—”

“Make sure that he doesn’t.”

There was nothing but a cold threat in Deucalion's voice. Silently, Stiles nodded, cold fear gripping at his heart. He didn’t care what happened to him, but his dad couldn’t get hurt. Stiles wouldn’t allow it. They came to this town to get a fresh start. Stiles wasn’t losing anyone else.

“Tell me you understand,” Deucalion said. “Blind man and all.”

Hate swelled up in his chest. “I understand.”

“And if you don’t—”

“I  _ understand.” _

The man smiled. Slowly, he pushed himself up and Kali moved over, taking his cane and pressing it into his hand. The bald man opened the back door and Stiles watched them silently. Deucalion turned back around in the doorway though, the faintest red light behind his sunglasses.

“We’ll keep in touch, Stiles.”

Stiles didn’t say a word. In seconds, the werewolves were gone, leaving the door wide open.

The moment he was gone, Stiles rose unsteadily. He meant to move over and close it but instead, he raced toward the trash can, stomach churning. Stiles dropped to his knees and heaved until he couldn’t anymore, terror crashing over him. He was trembling like a leaf, he realized, wiping a hand over his mouth as he blinked hard.

The silence of the house was haunting. But at the same time, it was too loud.

Stiles gagged and then heaved again. His heart thudded against his chest. He kept hearing Deucalion's words over and over again.

And Stiles… Stiles slowly sunk to the floor. He thumbed out his phone and scrolled to his dad’s name. Debated calling. Debated confessing anything. Then he scrolled below it and hit Scott’s name instead.

The phone only rang for a moment. The moment the boy answered, Stiles forced a smile onto his face.

“Stiles! Is everything okay? You kind of ran off.”

“I’m good, Scotty.”

“Okay. Is there, uh, anything else you need? Derek’s kind of giving me the stink eye.”

“I just—”  _ I can’t, Scott. They threatened my dad. They threatened my father. I can’t lose him, Scott, I can’t—  _ “I want to help with this. The Alphas. Can I come by again tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yes!” Scott shouted, and Stiles winced. He heard Scott chuckle and then softly say, “Yes, dude, that’d be great. We’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah,” Stiles murmured. “Tomorrow.”

The boy hung up and Stiles stared at the floor for a moment. Then he crumpled into himself, dropping his head into his arms. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. He had to. He didn’t have a choice.

He couldn’t lose his dad.

Stiles would do whatever it took.

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-ed, so all mistakes are my own. Also, if there are any prompts you guys ever want to see me write, I'd love to take requests. Hope you're all doing well! Oh, and come hang with me on Tumblr or something, cause you're all amazing
> 
> [ https://when-she-writes-stuff.tumblr.com](https://when-she-writes-stuff.tumblr.com)


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